have you checked in with the moon lately? ☽

11:34pm

He said, “What are you afraid of?”, I swallow, loud enough that his eyes are directed to the movement in my throat. He looks at me, almost agaze, his eyes following down. Tracing the lines of my collarbone, down. His eyes lingering a few moments longer on the pulse beating out of my chest. I watch him, waiting for our eyes to meet again, unsure of what I can say next, anything. Anything that will make the question pass and the conversation move forward.

“Do it“. I whisper, only internally. “Kill me“, I say to him, beg him, in my mind. My mouth has still not moved, he hasn’t seemed to notice. I knew he could read me just like he was now, he’d been watching me forever and I hadn’t noticed, maybe he’d heard me, I believe it so much I swear I almost see him nod, answering my request.

He is the answer to every prayer, every sin. I pray every time I look at him to not fall in love all over again. There will never be a last time, he is forever, drifting through the wind like a ghost yet he’s real, so real. I know this, his skin on mine is a movement that has never made me feel so alive.

I draw a breath, I don’t know if it’s because I’m about to speak or because I’ve been holding it for what feels like a lifetime. I could choose to answer with anything, but I don’t. I want him to know.

“Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed: I was here. I was hungry. I was defeated. I was happy. I was sad. I was in love. I was afraid. I was hopeful. I had an idea and I had a good purpose and that’s why I made works of art.”